Bua probably thinks Sud’s words mean he’s falling in love with me, but I know better. He’s been in charge of me for years, and he’s used to taking care of me. Having someone else do it rankles.
That was a bit more than rankled.
I wasn’t lying when I told Sud I want a shower. Heading down the hall, I pass Peach’s room where she and her brother, Nat, are studying on her bed. I say hello to them, grab some clothes from my dresser, and head for the bathroom. Before stepping into the shower, I check my phone. There’s a text from Sud.
I’m sorry.
While I wash, I wonder what Sud is sorry for. For busting into P’Wisit’s apartment? For shouting and pretty much accusing me of sleeping with P’Wisit? For telling me he considers me hisproperty? I don’t know if I’m angry at him or not. What I do know is that if we go to work today and someone gets wind that things are off between us so soon after the last time, they may decide we’re more trouble than we’re worth. I can’t let Sud self-sabotage his big chance at being an actor.
Later, dressed and feeling calmer, I spend a few hours studying before eating a sandwich and heading downstairs to wait for Sud to pick me up. I texted him after I got out of the shower and told him everything’s okay.
The thing is, I don’t want bad feelings between us, and not just because of work. I blame it on my abandonment issues. I’m well aware that while being left with Sud’s family turned out to be a positive thing for me, the effects of being unwanted by the people who should love me the most run deep. Knowing it and understanding it doesn’t change how I feel.
Outside, I sit on the low brick wall, a gentle wind blowing my hair off my forehead. Maybe I should see a therapist about these issues I have. I can’t think of one thing Mae or Pah have ever said that would imply I’m not good enough, yet I feel sometimes like they’re just waiting for me to fuck up. Or to fall apart. I know the university offers assistance for student mental health issues. I could check into that.
Out of nowhere, a forgotten memory bobs to the surface of my brain.
I used to see a therapist.
I was around ten or eleven, and I’m pretty sure it was a weekly thing. What I don’t remember is why. Maybe Mae thought it would be a good idea due to all the turmoil I’d experienced in my young life. I do remember being extra sensitive around that age and having a lot of nightmares that sent me into Sud’s room to sleep with him. Sud must have ratted me out.
Now that I remember, more and more details come back to me. The therapist was relatively young, probably early thirties,and insisted that I call her P’Kwan instead of Khun Kittisak. She wore large, red-framed glasses and had a reassuring smile. I remember liking the toys in her office that she let me play with, as well as her little brown dog that slept in a bed by her desk.
One thing I specifically recall is getting frustrated when P’Kwan would prod me about my feelings for Sud. Why did she talk so much about him? Sud didn’t have anything to do with my nightmares, anxiety, or the reason I sometimes burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and I didn’t like her insinuating that he did.
Sud was always there for me. He let me share his bed in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and he put himself between me and other kids when I didn’t want to talk to them, which was more often than not. He was and still is closer to me than any other person in this world. But P’Kwan would ask me if I was crying because of Sud. Why would I be?
Yet, that feeling I get that… horrible, sinking feeling…it has to do with Sud. I’m positive of that.
Closing my eyes, I envision the therapist’s office. The big couch with the yellow pillows—yellow’s my favorite color. The plants in the big window that looked out over a park. The colorful rug, and the low chair I would sit on when I put together a puzzle on a table just the right size for a child my age. I remember staring at the pieces, turning them this way and that, trying to make them fit while P’Kwan asked me question after question. I stopped answering them at some point.
The blare of a horn makes me jump, and I stand up, blinking into the sunshine for a moment before recognizing Sud’s idling car not three feet away from me. My mind was so preoccupied with the past, I didn’t even notice when he pulled up.
“What’s wrong?” Sud asks when I slide into the passenger seat and reach for the seatbelt.
“Nothing,” I say. “Why?”
“I rolled down the window and called to you, but you were staring off into space. I had to blow the horn to get your attention.”
“Oh. I was thinking about something.” I look at him. “Do you remember I used to go to a therapist?”
Sud frowns and studies my face. “Why are you thinking about that?”
I shrug. “I just suddenly remembered it, that’s all.”
Looking uncomfortable, Sud says, “Noi, if what I said earlier bothers you, please forget about it. I was just upset.”
I don’t argue. There’s no point, and I don’t want to.
Once on the main road, Sud asks, “Why did you ask me about the therapy?”
I shrug. “No reason. I’d just forgotten about it, that’s all.” Looking through my phone, I pull up Rainbow TV’s website and my mouth drops open. “Did you know the trailer dropped?”
Sud glances at me. “It did? That was fast.”
I wait until Sud finds a place to pull off the road before playing the video for both of us.
It’s just the unofficial trailer, so it’s only about two minutes long. When it ends, we watch it again. It’s nothing at all like the video we did for Sud’s class. It’s a million times better—like watching a movie. A movie with music and me and Sud in it, which is surreal, especially seeing us looking at each other likethat.I’ll never get used to seeing us with makeup. It’s subtle, but, I mean, we look sopretty!